Was that a hint of triumph she heard? He must be jubilant at the prospect of their divorce proceeding.
‘Nor will you speculate in any way about me, my ex-fiancée or any aspect of my life. Is that clear?’
‘Abundantly.’ She flashed him a look of annoyance but he was impervious. He leaned back in his chair, obviously content that he had the situation completely sewn up.
‘And just to make sure, there are penalties if you breach the contract.’ He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and smiled at her. His expression reminded her of the way a wolf bared its teeth just before leaping on its prey. Her hand crept to her throat, fingers spreading defensively across her bare flesh.
Despite his air of relaxed assurance, the business tycoon managing the negotiation of a formal agreement, there was something feral about the way he watched her, unblinking. As if he was looking for an excuse to shed the civilised persona and use brute force to subjugate her.
Tessa shivered and thrust the thought aside, tearing her gaze from his and bending over the papers again.
‘Turn the page over and you can see the penalties I mentioned.’ No mistaking the satisfaction in his voice now.
She found the section he’d mentioned and sucked in her breath. The fines were hefty. More, she figured, than she could hope to earn in a decade.
No wonder Stavros was so pleased with himself.
‘And if you keep going,’ he gestured impatiently for her to turn the pages, ‘there’s the section you’ll be most interested in. The payment you receive after you sign.’
The phone rang on his last word but he didn’t move to answer it. She looked up to find him staring expectantly.
A burst of annoyance flared inside her.
‘You might as well answer it. I’m not signing until I’ve read it all through.’
His eyes narrowed, concentrating the impact of that biting look. Tessa merely raised her eyebrows and waited.
On the sixth ring he reached out a long arm and picked up the receiver, his gaze still pinioning her. After listening for a few moments he gestured imperiously to the pen on his desk and swivelled his chair round to face his computer, the phone pressed to his ear.
It must have been important news, for within a couple of minutes Stavros was absorbed in a document on the screen before him, discussing it at length over the phone.
Resolutely Tessa turned back to the contract. Yet the soft Greek syllables, in that low, resonating voice, played havoc with her concentration.
She turned to the last page…and froze.
Eyes widening, she stared. She darted a look at Stavros but he was absorbed in his conversation, had dismissed her from his mind as if she weren’t there.
Tessa’s gaze dropped to the page before her and she drew a shaky breath. She’d known Stavros was wealthy, but this was…unbelievable.
For the third time she read the clause setting out the payment she’d receive if she signed. If she promised not to speak to anyone about her relationship with Stavros, and more, if she renounced all further claims on his assets.
The amount was staggering. The number of zeros in the figure sucked the breath from her lungs. It meant she’d be wealthy, securely rich for the rest of her life.
No scrimping and saving. No worry about finding a decent place to live. She’d never even have to work.
Tessa felt her eyes bulge as she read the paragraph again. And again.
Her stomach churned. It was really worth this much for him to know he was free of her? How much money did he think she wanted? Surely even the most avaricious of ex-wives would be content with less than this.
A sigh shuddered through her as she realised what this meant. All she had to do was sign and she’d be free. The divorce would take longer, but essentially she’d be free. Stavros would no longer fear she might blurt something to the Press and he’d let her walk out of the door.
Her hand hovered over the slim gold pen.
It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To be able to go home. To get on with her life. Most of all, to put Stavros Denakis where he belonged—in her past.
Only a fool would cling to the notion he had any place in her life. Especially after the way he’d treated her.
Her fingers trembled.
She stole another look at Stavros across the wide expanse of desk. He was concentrating on the computer screen. The glower that had creased his features was gone and he looked every inch the tycoon: confident, decisive, focused. The expensive jacket couldn’t hide the power of his massive shoulders, or the sizzle of energy that emanated from him as he leaned forward to type something.
This was what he lived for: his business.
What had happened four years ago, when he’d gone out of his way to save a stranger, was an aberration. An episode best forgotten.